Shattered Rainbows (5 page)

"It was a bit of a struggle sir," Michael replied, "but eventually I convinced them I might be of use."

"Later I'll want you with a regiment, but for the time being, I'm going to keep you for staff
work. Matters are in a rare shambles." The duke rose and went to the window so he could scowl at a troop of Dutch-Belgian soldiers marching by. "If I had my Peninsular army here, this would be easy. Instead, too many of the British troops are untested, and the only Dutch-Belgians with experience are those who served under Napoleon's eagles and aren't sure which side they want to win. They'll probably bolt at the first sign of action." He gave a bark of laughter. "I don't know if this army will frighten Bonaparte, but by God, it frightens me."

Michael suppressed a smile. The dry humor proved the duke was unfazed by a situation that would dismay a lesser man.

They talked a few minutes longer about what duties Wellington had in mind. Then he escorted Michael out to the large anteroom. Several aides had been working there, but now they were gathered in a knot at the far end of the room.

The duke asked, "Have you found a billet, Kenyon?"

"No, sir. I came straight here."

"Between the military and the fashionable fribbles, Brussels is bulging at the seams." The duke glanced down the room. When a flash of white muslin showed between the officers, he said, "Here's a possibility. Is that Mrs. Melbourne distracting my aides from their work?"

The group dissolved, and a laughing woman emerged from the center. Michael looked at her, and went rigid from head to foot. The woman was beautiful—heart-stoppingly, mind-druggingly beautiful. As stunning as his mistress, Caroline, had been, and seeing her affected him the same way. He felt like a fish who had just swallowed a lethal hook.

As the lady approached and gave the duke her hand, Michael reminded himself that he was thirty-three years old, well past the age of instant infatuation with a pretty face. Yet the woman was lovely enough to cause a riot in a monastery. Her sleek dark hair was pulled back with a simplicity that emphasized the classic perfection of her features, and her graceful figure had a sensual lushness that would haunt any man's dreams.

To Wellington, she said drolly, "I'm sorry to have disturbed your officers. I
merely stopped by to deliver a message to Colonel Gordon. But I shall leave
directly, before you have me imprisoned for aiding and abetting the enemy!"

"Never that," Wellington said gallantly. "Kenyon, did you ever meet Mrs. Melbourne on the Peninsula? Her husband is a captain in the 3rd Dragoons."

Amazed at how calm his voice was, Michael replied, "I'm afraid I've never had the pleasure. The cavalry and the infantry don't always have much to say to one another."

The duke chuckled. "True, but Mrs. Melbourne was also known as Saint Catherine for her work nursing the wounded. Mrs. Melbourne, Major Lord Michael Kenyon."

She turned to Michael. Something flickered in her eyes, then vanished as she gave him her hand and a friendly smile. Her eyes were as striking as the rest of her, a shade of light, clear aqua unlike any he had ever seen.

"Mrs. Melbourne." As he bowed over her hand, the duke's words snapped a fragment of memory into place. Good God, could this elegant, frivolous female be the woman he had seen in the hospital after Salamanca? It was hard to believe.

As he straightened, the duke said, "Major Kenyon has just arrived in Brussels and is in need of a billet. Do you and Mrs. Mowbry have room in your menage for another officer?"

"Yes, we have space." She made a comically rueful face. "That is, if you can bear living in close quarters with three children and a variable number of pets. Besides my husband and Captain Mowbry, we have another bachelor, Captain Wilding."

This time he recognized the low, soothing voice that had crooned a dying boy to his final rest. This sleek creature really was the lady of Salamanca. Remarkable.

The duke remarked, "Wilding is a friend of yours, isn't he?"

A warning sounded in Michael's head, saying he would be a damned fool to stay under the same roof with a woman who affected him like this one did. Yet he found himself saying, "Yes, and I rather like pets and children as well."

"Then you're welcome to join us," she said warmly. "The way the city is filling up, we'll have to take in someone else sooner or later, so it might as well be now."

Before Michael had a chance for second thoughts or polite refusal, Wellington said, "It's settled, then. I'll expect you here in the morning, Kenyon. Mrs. Melbourne, I hope to see you next week at a small entertainment I shall be holditig."

She smiled. "It will be my pleasure."

As the duke returned to his office, Mrs. Melbourne said, "I'm on my way home now, Major. Shall I take you to the house? It's on the Rue de la Reine, not far from the Namur Gate."

They came out the front of the building. Neither carriage nor maid waited for her. He said, "Surely you're not walking alone?"

"Of course I am," she said mildly. "I enjoy walking."

He supposed that to a woman who had followed the drum, Brussels seemed very tame, but no woman so lovely should walk alone in a town full of soldiers. "Then let me escort you."

His groom and orderly were waiting nearby on horseback with his baggage, so he stopped to instruct them to follow. As he and Mrs. Melbourne set off along the Rue Royale, she tucked her hand in his arm. There was nothing flirtatious in the gesture. Rather, she had the easy manner of a comfortably married woman who was accustomed to being surrounded by men.

Deciding it was time to stop acting like a stunned ox, he remarked, "It's very good of you to let me share your billet. I suspect that good quarters are hard to find."

"Kenneth Wilding will be glad to have another infantryman under the same roof."

He grinned. "Surely you know that one infantryman is easily a match for two cavalry officers, Mrs. Melbourne."

"Just because the British cavalry is famous for chasing the enemy as wildly as they run after foxes, there's no reason to be caustic," she said with a laugh. "And please, call me Catherine. After all, we shall be living together like brother and sister for the indefinite future."

Brother and sister. She was so unaware of the paralyzing impact she had made on him that he began to relax. He had shared billets with married couples before, and he could do so now. "Then you must call me Michael. Have you been in Brussels long?"

"Only a fortnight or so. However, Anne Mowbry and I have shared quarters before, and we have the housekeeping down to a science." She gave him a humorous glance. "We run a very good boardinghouse, if I do say so. There's always food available for a man who has worked odd hours. Dinner is served for anyone who is home, and there's usually enough for an unexpected guest or two. In return, Anne and I request that any drunken revels be held elsewhere. The children need their sleep."

"Yes, ma'am. Are there any other house rules I should know?"

She hesitated, then said uncomfortably, "It will be appreciated if you pay your share of the expenses promptly."

In other words, money was sometimes tight. "Done. Let me know how much and when."

She nodded, then glanced at his green Rifleman's uniform. "Are you just back from North America?"

"No, I sold out last year after Napoleon abdicated and have been living a quiet civilian life. However, when I heard that the emperor had bolted again…" He shrugged.

"A civilian life," she said wistfully. "I wonder what it would be like to know one could stay in one house forever."

"You've never had that?"

She shook her head "My father was in the army, so it's the only life I've ever known."

No wonder she had learned to create comfort wherever she went. Her husband was a lucky man.

They fell into an easy conversation, for the Peninsular years had given them experiences in common. It was all quite casual—except for the fact that he was acutely conscious of the light pressure of her gloved fingers on his arm.

Deciding that he should mention their first encounter, he said, "We did meet three years ago after a fashion, Catherine."

She frowned, an enchanting furrow appearing between her brows. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't remember."

"I was wounded at Salamanca. At the field hospital, you gave me water when I was desperately thirsty. I've never been so grateful for anything in my life."

She turned and studied his face, as if trying to recall.

"There was no reason for you to remember me among so many. But you might recollect the boy on the pallet next to me. He was calling for his mother, and thought you were she. You stayed with him until he died."

"Ahh…" She exhaled, her lighthearted charm dropping away to reveal the tenderness of the woman who had comforted Jem. "Poor boy. There was so little I could do. So
damnably
little." She turned her face away. "I suppose I should have become accustomed to such scenes, but I never did."

Her beauty had struck him like a blow to the heart. Her compassion struck a second, harder blow, for years of war had made him treasure gentleness. He took a deep, slow breath before replying. "Callousness is easier. Yet even though it hurts more, there is much to be said for remembering the uniqueness and worth of each person whose life touches ours."

She gave him a measured glance. "You understand, don't you? Most soldiers find it better not to." More briskly, she continued, "Our destination is that house on the corner. Rentals are low in Brussels, so we were able to get a place with a nice garden for the children, plenty of stable room, and even a carriage for a ridiculously low amount."

The large, handsome house was surrounded by a wall. Michael opened the gate for Catherine, then beckoned to his servants, who were ambling quietly behind them. His young batman, Bradley, had eyes as large as saucers as he stared at Catherine. Michael could hardly blame him when he himself felt the same way.

Calmly ignoring the boy's smitten expression, Catherine described the household, then waved the two men toward the stables behind the house. The vulnerability she had shown earlier was gone, leaving her a well-organized army wife again.

As she led Michael inside, three children and two dogs came sweeping down the stairs in a stampede of small but astonishingly noisy feet. A bright soprano said, "We've finished our lessons, Mama, so can we please play in the garden?"

While the children and a long, low-slung dog swirled around Catherine, the other dog, a splotchy beast of indeterminate ancestry, began barking at Michael. Laughter in her voice, Catherine said, "Silence, please, or we'll drive Major Kenyon to another billet. Clancy, stop barking." Michael's opinion of her went still higher when not only the children but the dog fell abruptly silent.

Catherine put an arm around the taller girl, who appeared to be about ten. "This is my daughter, Amy. Amy, Major Lord Michael Kenyon. He will be staying here."

He bowed gravely. "Miss Melbourne."

The girl gave a graceful curtsy. She had her mother's striking aqua eyes and dark hair. "A pleasure, Major Kenyon."

Catherine continued, "And this is Miss Molly Mowbry and Master James Mowbry."

Both children had red hair and lively expressions. Mary must be eight or nine, her brother a couple of years younger. Like Amy, they had impeccable manners.

After curtsying, Molly said, "You're a lord?"

"It's only a courtesy title," he replied. "My father is a duke, but I won't be a real lord, since I have an older brother."

"Oh." Molly digested that. "Captain Wilding is teaching us to draw. Do you know anything useful?"

Amy elbowed her and hissed, "Don't ask such questions."

Molly blinked her large hazel eyes. "Was that rude?"

Michael smiled. "Only because I'm afraid I don't have any interesting skills."

"No?" she said with disappointment.

He tried to think what might interest a child. Certainly not mining or investment strategy. "Well, I can tell when a storm is coming, but I don't think I can teach it to anyone else."

Her face brightened. "You could
try
."

Catherine intervened. "The major needs to get settled. You three go outside, and take Clancy and Louis the Lazy with you."

Michael watched in bemusement as the children and dogs obeyed. "Louis the Lazy?"

A voice from the stairs said, "He's the long, lethargic hound. Mostly he sleeps. It's his only talent."

He looked up to see a small-boned, pretty redhead descending the steps. With a smile, she said, "I'm Anne Mowbry."

After the introductions, they talked for a few minutes, until Anne said candidly, "Please excuse me. I'm in the family way again, and at the stage where all I want to do is sleep."

Michael was amused by her frankness. She was attractive, friendly, and charming. And, blessedly, she didn't scramble his wits the way Catherine did.

After Anne took her leave, Catherine began to ascend the stairs. "Your room is up here, Michael."

She led him to a sunny chamber that looked on to the side street. "Kenneth is across the hall. There's already fresh linen on the bed, since we knew it would be occupied soon."

She turned to face him. The movement brought her into the sunshine that poured through the window. Limned by light, she was like a goddess, too beautiful to be of the earth. Yet she also had a warm ability to create peace and happiness around her that reminded him of Clare.

Behind her was the bed. He had a brief, mad fantasy of stepping forward, taking her in his arms, and sweeping her down across the mattress. He would kiss those soft lips and explore the hidden riches of her body. In her arms, he would discover what he had been yearning for…

Her gaze met his and there was a strange moment of awareness between them. She knew that he admired her. Yet though she was surely used to male appreciation, she quickly looked down and concentrated on peeling off her gloves. "If you need anything, just ask Anne or me or Rosemarie, the head housemaid."

He forced himself to look at the gold band that glinted on her left hand. She was married. Untouchable. The wife of a brother officer… and he must get her out of his bedroom
now
. "I'm sure I'll be very comfortable. I won't be here for dinner tonight, but I look forward to meeting the rest of the household later."